


Shiver

by Ribbonshalos



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Mild Angst, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 07:54:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16850125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ribbonshalos/pseuds/Ribbonshalos
Summary: She sees Maximilian in the aftermath of the fight. Her instructions are clear, help him clean up the mess of bodies, then wait for their call.





	Shiver

She sees Maximilian in the aftermath of the fight. Her instructions are clear, help him clean up the mess of bodies, then wait for their call. **  
**

Doomfist is gone as he needs to prepare for the trip to Venice. Reaper and Sombra wait nearby on orders as well. The purple dress that hangs off her shoulders has served its purpose.

Maximilian doesn’t allow her to actually perform her mission. Instead, other omnics remove the mess of their violent but short fight. She takes the moment to check her hair and make-up. Nothing can be out of place for Talon’s assassin, least they decide to approach her reconditioning once again.

The handheld mirror reveals him approaching her. She snaps its close with a sharp click before facing him. Nothing is out of sorts on his person. Metallic and cool with a black and red suit, Maximilian speaks with a deep, smooth voice. Something that is odd but the smallest bit enjoyable to her eardrums is the slight french accent to his robotic tones.

“Madam Lacroix, are you ready to depart?” he asks.

“Oui.”

Wordless, he offers his arm. Widowmaker almost hesitates to rest her fingers on the smooth fabric of his suit coat, but she does anyways. They glide past the last few henchmen upon the ground and to the door. A dark car waits, and Maximilian escorts her inside as if chaperoning a damsel. It almost makes her twist her lips.

Monaco is a place of luxury and repose. She’s traveled here a few times in a different state of mind, but she still feels the impression of the sparkling city lights and black blue sky.

“We are here,” Maximilian informs her softly, soothing his words out with a familiar accent.

Everything here presses close to something in her brain, as if cutting through the nerves and tissue to uproot images and smells that need to remain dead.

She almost feels something as the omnic escorts her once again, gently leading her by the arm to their hotel room. They could be here for minutes, or days, it all depends on Doomfist. Silently, Widowmaker hopes for the night to allow her to rest. Even as her breaths are steady and even, and her body is numb to the elements, it is hard to keep energy, much less to gain it back. Talon’s scientists will simply give her an injection to boost her endurance if needs be, but the crash afterwards is… unpleasant. The whole process of it is.

Don’t ponder. Just act.

They travel silently to the top of the building. A view of the city awaits a penthouse more than a simple waiting area. A large bath, floor to ceiling windows and two queen size beds await. It must be Maximilian’s doing.

“What do you think of Monaco, Madam,” Maximilian breaks the silence.

Widowmaker doesn’t stop her approach to the windows. A rare urge wants the view of the city. As if it is a substitute for something else.

“There are plenty of places to make a sniper nest,” she speaks.

A few moments of silent lapse. Perhaps that’s not the answer he was looking for, but it is still the one she gave. Quietly, the omnic’s footsteps come closer until he is at a comfortable distance beside her, watching the streets and buildings. He seems only interested, not in need of entertainment.

“Are you only Talon’s sniper?” he asks, turning his dark face plate upon her. It is not a demand, or order.

She faces him, letting her shoulders shiver in the thin dress.

“What else would I be?” she responds in turn. For once, she isn’t sure of other answers to give besides the one, but Maximilian lifts his chin by the smallest motion.

“I already find you as a woman of… notability.” His voice runs smooth as one metallic hand touches his tie. The other press to his suit, as if smoothing impossible wrinkles away.

Widowmaker finds his voice alluring in the kindest way possible. It is a dangerous thing, but she steps closer to the omnic. There are only mere inches between them.

“Maximilian,” she says his name for the first time. “What is notable about me?”

The dimmest glimmer gives away the moment of his red eyes. He considers their situation, still calm as he looks to her face of blue and gold.

“I am still discovering more about you, Madam,” he begins. “You will have to ask me that question at another time.”

Another time. He and her, together.

“You hope to see me again,” she states. There is no doubt in her voice.

“Of course,” the littlest flare of red lights up his optics. “As I have said, you have a distinction that I am slowly coming to admire.”

For a moment, the cold presses into her bare, blue skin. The dress reveals her shoulders and back easily, but she’s never been prone to shivering until now.

“Maximilian.” That is all she says.

“You should retire.” It’s impossible to know if he sees her chilliness. “I will wait for Akande’s call.”

“Maximilian,” now she speaks with purpose, gaining his softer attention.

“Yes, Madam?”

Wordlessly, she turns in place. The back of her dress has a small but secure zipper. Hidden among the purple fabric, it will be difficult to undo alone.

It is only moments that she waits before cool fingers press against her lower back. Digits touch her spine, holding the fabric in place as the zipper lowers quietly. He will only see more of her blue skin, nothing exciting. The smallest pause comes after the zipper is undone before his metal hands lift away.

“Merci.”

Her hair moves with her steps as she leaves the omnic at the window. He stays, returning his gaze to the city just outside. A quiet contemplation falls upon him in the absence of Widowmaker.

He finds her too impressionable. A killer woman that has only met his acquaintance and yet, they share a hideaway together. Most important, her softer voice keeps his attention.

She returns in a white lace nightgown. Without a word, Maximilian gestures to the bed closest to the outside view. Her longing of the city lights is undeniable.

Widowmaker slips onto the too large mattress, pressing to the far side. She stares at his form silhouetted by the city lights. It makes her want to know the shape of him better. Another shiver runs through her when she breathes out softly against the pillow.

Maximilian turns away from her city view. He only gets half a step away when her voice calls out to him.

“Maximilian.”

She looks like a ghost in the dark room.

“Madam?”

His address makes her tremble.

“Do you rest?”

“I can.”

The red of his optics are steady. She knows something moves inside of her numb chest.

“Then come here and rest.”

The dark outline against the city skyline stays still. A slow heartbeat later, he slips off his suit jacket. It hits the ground without a care. A few steps echo towards her bed as he loosens his red tie. Next, the first button is undone by silver fingers until a few metal cords of his throat are revealed underneath the collar of his shirt.

The word handsome comes to the edge of her lips.

He stands for a moment at the end of the bed, holding her gaze in red.

“Are you sure?” he asks near silently. She shifts her hair upon the pillow. 

Don’t ponder. Just act.

“Oui.” There is already plenty of space for him.

He follows her will. The omnic lays down beside her on the bed. Flat on his back, he keeps his hands over his lower stomach. Red optics look only to the ceiling. Her golden attention keeps on his outline and the city around it.

Another shiver betrays her blue skin and trembling lips. It may be her own foolish thoughts, but she feels her heartbeat pulse loudly.

“You’re cold,” he says.

“I always am,” she answers, but shifts the one sheet she is hidden under higher up. It doesn’t fit quite to her shoulders, but she is too intent on other matters.

Maximilian moves after she settles. Softly, slow, metallic fingers reach through the dark. Gentle tips touch her shoulder like a spark before pulling the blanket over her blue skin. He retreats just as fashionably.

They still. Upon the bed, the omnic and woman exist in a dim, quiet comfort. He doesn’t seem to rest, but lie very still. If it’s for her benefit, she can’t vocalize the meaning of it quite yet.

She doesn’t process the time that she sleeps. There is only the omnic beside her, and then the pure darkness of dreams. 


End file.
